I'm pretty tired. The last few days have been mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically draining. The Jewish New Year is a time of great anticipation and anxiety for a rabbi. These are the days when everybody shows up to services and everyone has high expectations.
1. Keep me awake and interested.
2. Finish on time.
3. Give me a spiritual experience.
4. Inspire or move me with your sermon.
I'm not sure how well I did, though I confess we finished a bit late on day 1. By the end of day 2, I was really dragging. And to make things a bit more difficult, the holiday flowed right into Shabbat this year. So three days of intense synagogue time.
I missed my workouts on Thursday and Friday because of the holiday. I can't ride my bike on Shabbat or the holidays because of certain religious restrictions on the holy days. I can't swim because I'm unable to get to the pool for the same reason. But I have found enough religious legal precedent to allow me to run. So after 2 long, tough days, I was up at 5 this morning, slipping on my running shoes for an early, pre-synagogue 7.5 mile easy run.
Easy....
It was in the 40's, pouring rain, the wind was howling and the sky was as dark as night for the duration of my hour and 3 minute run. To make matters more interesting, my mild cold managed to settle into my chest this AM. Before I made it 100 steps, I was coughing so violently I nearly puked on my running shoes.
I eventually settled into a comfortable pace and became immune to both the elements and my cold. An hour later I approaching my driveway feeling pretty good.
But why? Why the hell would I do that to myself? Never mind the elements, the early hour after two long, restless days and the depressing darkness of the wee morning hours, the rule of thumb says that with a head cold train lightly; with a chest cold rest lest you get sicker. I know the rule and I ignored it.
Why?
It's simple. Guilt and fear. If you've ever training for something serious, like a marathon, you know what I mean. Any missed workout is accompanied by deep guilt that come with forsaking a real commitment. And fear... Well, it may be 11 months away, but 140.6 miles in one day is pretty damn intimidating and the thought of committing more than a year of training for an event that, without perfect training, I may not finish scares me awake every morning, well before the sun rises, giving me enough time to train before my kids wake up.
So, this morning's run was just one more workout in a sea of countless 100s more. This 1 run alone didn't make me fast enough or strong enough to get to the finish line. But it was certainly the sort of workout that building character.
1. Keep me awake and interested.
2. Finish on time.
3. Give me a spiritual experience.
4. Inspire or move me with your sermon.
I'm not sure how well I did, though I confess we finished a bit late on day 1. By the end of day 2, I was really dragging. And to make things a bit more difficult, the holiday flowed right into Shabbat this year. So three days of intense synagogue time.
I missed my workouts on Thursday and Friday because of the holiday. I can't ride my bike on Shabbat or the holidays because of certain religious restrictions on the holy days. I can't swim because I'm unable to get to the pool for the same reason. But I have found enough religious legal precedent to allow me to run. So after 2 long, tough days, I was up at 5 this morning, slipping on my running shoes for an early, pre-synagogue 7.5 mile easy run.
Easy....
It was in the 40's, pouring rain, the wind was howling and the sky was as dark as night for the duration of my hour and 3 minute run. To make matters more interesting, my mild cold managed to settle into my chest this AM. Before I made it 100 steps, I was coughing so violently I nearly puked on my running shoes.
I eventually settled into a comfortable pace and became immune to both the elements and my cold. An hour later I approaching my driveway feeling pretty good.
But why? Why the hell would I do that to myself? Never mind the elements, the early hour after two long, restless days and the depressing darkness of the wee morning hours, the rule of thumb says that with a head cold train lightly; with a chest cold rest lest you get sicker. I know the rule and I ignored it.
Why?
It's simple. Guilt and fear. If you've ever training for something serious, like a marathon, you know what I mean. Any missed workout is accompanied by deep guilt that come with forsaking a real commitment. And fear... Well, it may be 11 months away, but 140.6 miles in one day is pretty damn intimidating and the thought of committing more than a year of training for an event that, without perfect training, I may not finish scares me awake every morning, well before the sun rises, giving me enough time to train before my kids wake up.
So, this morning's run was just one more workout in a sea of countless 100s more. This 1 run alone didn't make me fast enough or strong enough to get to the finish line. But it was certainly the sort of workout that building character.
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